Peregrination
by CyanUnicorn
Summary: Peregrination: a journey, particularly a long or meandering one. “Maybe it was the journey you were searching for, not the destination.” Otherwise known as the self indulgent self-insert that no one asked for.
1. 一 Deracinate

_Notes and potential trigger warnings will be at the bottom of each chapter._

**Deracinate**_: to move (people) forcibly from their accustomed surroundings into a new and foreign environment._

* * *

"Becca."

I groan at the sound of my friend's voice and blearily open my eyes. The laptop screen that's been balanced on our laps for the past several hours has been paused and a few empty cans of cider are scattered on the floor. The only remnants of our anime binge is just a light blue-grey block of colour frozen on the screen. "Mmhmm?"

"You seem tired."

Snorting, I send her a wry grin. "Congratulations bae, statement of the century. You should win a award. 'For Sophie, the-"

"Yeah yeah I get it, Jesus." She sighs and gets up from her position next to me on the bed, moving half of the laptop that was on her leg onto mine. As she stands, the bed creaks ever so slightly. She turns to face me. "Seriously though, I know it's late and we've had a few drinks, but you've been on medication for what, eight months? Shouldn't it be working by now? I swear I have your yawn face commited to memory by now."

"Haha very funny bae, I would be surprised if my yawn wasn't etched into everyone's faces," I shrug and shuffle my legs so the laptop sits more comfortably on my thighs. "But I dunno. It probably should be working by now yes. But hey, if it's not life threatening then why should the NHS even really care about it? It's not like I'm dying."

"Just because you're not dying doesn't mean you should be any less important to them." She says it with a firm voice and a shake of the head. Her dark brown hair swishes with it. "Quality of life is also at stake here."

I snigger and start to retort but she cuts me off.

"No don't you brush me off. I mean it. You're so tired all of the time you can't concentrate or focus on anything at all. It's a wonder you do so well at school! Just imagine how much easier everything would be if your brain wasn't foggy from your chronic fatigue all the time."

"It doesn't matter Soph, let it go. I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't be used to it!" She huffs. "Do I need to bring up other possible symptoms of hypo- whatever the fuck it's called?"

"Oh God please," I groan, rubbing my eyes with my palms. "Come on, you know you can't google stuff and expect an it to all be completely correct. All that hormone and medical jargon on those websites is a load of bullshit to a lot of peeps, and not _everyone _with thyroid issues has-"

"Depression?"

I wince. "I wasn't gonna just put it like that but, sure. Whatever floats your goat."

We had turned the lights off so we could watch the laptop screen with an enhanced atmosphere, but even in the darkness I can tell she's giving me a long and hard stare.

"You may not have clinical depression or anxiety or whatever," Her fingers drum a rhythm on the wall. "But that doesn't mean this illness isn't harming your mental health. Unless, you want to tell me why you came to my house late at night, crying and with no explanation?"

The silence between us speaks for itself.

"I didn't think so."

A grunt escapes my mouth as I lean back, head hitting the wall. "That's different."

"No it's not different!" She wrenches her bedroom door open and a faded blue light filters in. A heavy breath escapes her mouth.

"Where are you going?" I lift my head from its resting place on the wall.

Sophie turns to face me, one hand gripping the edge of the door. For I moment I think she's about to accuse me of changing the subject, but she softens her voice instead. "I'm going to make a glass of water, I've had a few too many ciders I think. Do you want anything?"

I smile faintly. "Sure, if you're offering, a glass of water sounds fab thank you. What do you want me to do with the laptop? Do you wanna finish the episode?"

"Duh, what kind of question is that?" I can almost hear her eye roll. "You can watch the opening while I get a drink though. Or listen, I guess. I know you're into the whole violin and choral singing crap."

Grinning, I wave her off. "Oh bae you know me _so _well. Shoo, let me get my fix of Toshio Masuda for the night while you quench your thirst for water."

She laughs gently as the door shuts behind her, footsteps resounding in the hallway. I remove my red framed glass and place them on the bed with a _thump _and press play. Slowly, I lean backwards, resting my head on the wall again and allow the sounds of a disjointed piano and violins to echo around me.

I close my eyes.

* * *

Ringing.

Something is ringing. It's echoing, all around me.

It's echoing in a dark, dark tunnel, loud but soothing.

I have to walk, I have to journey through the darkness to get to the end of the dark, dark tunnel. I don't know why but... I just do. I just _know. _

Floating orbs of light bounce off of invisible walls and dance around my head. They glitter and glimmer, prancing around with the likeness of docile and delicate ballerinas.

Their light is faint and shimmering, but it's not enough. I need _more. _

I need to reach the light.

The light at the end of the dark, dark tunnel. The light that gets brighter and brighter as I walk faster and faster and gets closer and closer-

I reach.

* * *

"Mmmf," Mumbling, I roll from my side to my back. The bed squeaks.

"Wophiiee, what time 'sit?" I croak, rubbing my eyes with my forefinger and thumb. When I pull them away and blink them open, they feel... odd. That's the only way I can think to describe it really. Odd. I don't struggle to open them and they don't ache at all. There's no eye dust or overwhelming need to close them again. If anything, they feel too alert to be closed again.

They feel... _good._

Holy shit. Is this what it feels like to wake up refreshed? Oh man how long did I sleep for to feel this _good_? It's almost _euphoric_. Normally after a few ciders, waking up is even more of a chore than usual. This is _crazy. _

"Hey, Wophie," I call out again, moving to sit up from her bed. When did I even fall asleep on it? I was supposed to take the sofa bed and sleep on the floor. Whoops. "Wophie, you awake yet?"

I move to lean over the left side of the bed and peer down at the floor, only to realise there is a lot less 'bed' than I originally believed. I tumble face first onto the floor with a small groan.

With that tumble, comes a revelation.

The floor is _hard._

Not hard as in, ow-I've-just-fallen-off-the-bed-and-my-butt-hurts, but hard as in _wooden._

Last time I checked, Sophie's room had carpet.

In fact, I'm pretty sure her entire house is carpeted, minus the kitchen and bathroom. Although I never really saw the inside of her sisters or parents bedrooms, so they _could_ have wooden floors. But why would I wake up in one of their rooms? No way could Sophie have moved me, she's way too skinny and I have too much flubber, even if I am only 5 feet tall.

Maybe I sleepwalked? That's the most probable explanation. I've only done it once in my life and I was like, eight, but I guess it could've happened. I slap my hand on the floorboards one more time, moving to a sitting position.

Yup. Definitely not carpet.

I bring my hand up to tuck some stray fringe behind my ear, taking in the dark surroundings when another strange thing happens.

It _stops_.

My hair. It just... stops.

I actively try to move the same piece of hair behind my ear again but it flops back to my face, almost mocking me. Instead of trying to tuck it behind my ear for a third time, I pull on it to stretch the strands to full length and peer from below.

Huh. That is definitely shorter than I thought it was.

Absently, I reach for the rest of my hair that should be resting on my back, only to realise that once again, it's not there.

It. Is not. _There._

"What the fuck?" I whisper. "What the fuck?!"

I scrabble to stand on my feet when my brain suddenly comes to the conclusion that I am _missing _a solid three quarters of my hair. I try the yank at the chin length strands and yelp in the process.

Not a wig apparently.

"Nonononono what the fuck, fuck, _fuck_. Sophie!" I yell out her name as I dash to the bedroom door and yank it open. "_Sophie_!" I practically scream it this time, tears threatening to spill as I try to keep my breathing controlled. What happened to my _hair!? _There has to be an explanation. There _has _to be. Has someone played some kind of cruel prank on me? Am I dreaming? I have to be dreaming.

Stepping out of the door, I yell her name again, only for it to die in my throat.

"What the..?"

I expect to come out onto the landing. The _carpeted_ landing where a banister and descending staircase should be opposite me and Sophie's bedroom door is to the right. Key point: _should be._

"What the fuck?"

I'm dreaming. I am definitely dreaming.

As if in a trance, I stumble into a small hallway with a beige, wooden floor then walk forwards, the only direction available for me to move. I try to ignore the glaring lack of a staircase, carpet, or anything familiar to me.

Numbly, my eyes absorb the layout of the foreign room I am taken to and my brain tries to ignore how _real _everything is, how my strides seem to be that _little_ bit longer, and how the ground seems to be a _little_ bit further away than I'm used to.

I come to a standstill beside an old cream sofa in the centre in the room. My hand grips the back as I tilt my head down to stare at the ground and wiggle my toes.

Or... not my toes?

Definitely not my toes. Or feet. Or _legs._

Fuck are they smooth? I haven't shaved in _weeks; _it's fucking _winter. _I crouch down to run a hand along the skin to check that yes, they are in fact hairless. My hands stop.

Not my hands.

The fingers in front of me are long and slender, easily able to reach a ninth on the piano, maybe even a tenth. _My _short and stubby chipolata fingers have a comfortable reach of a seventh, an octave if I stretch.

This is either some kind of elaborate prank or insanely realistic dream.

I'm not entirely sure how long I stay crouched beside the sofa for just gazing at my smooth legs and normal sized hands, my mind racing to find a accurate conclusion. It moves from 'dream' to drugs.

That must make more sense. Everything is way too _real _to be a dream. I must be on drugs.

I don't remember _taking _any, but I don't really remember much from last night. Did I take some medication with a little vodka to wash it down? Or maybe just more alcohol? No. No, I've been absolutely smashed before and not experienced anything like this. Besides, last night was _strictly_ a cider night between two gals. No crazy business. Although, this is similar what Amber-Lee described smoking weed felt like.

Fuck, did we go out and get high last night? No, no we wouldn't, would we? I would _remember. _And while alcohol is a big yes-yes, illegal _drugs _are a big no-no. A little alcohol wouldn't change my morals would they? There's no way-

And that's when I hear a knock on the door.

It's just a gentle knock, three raps and then silence. My head moved ever so slowly, drawn to white door. My thoughts jumble even more, scrabbling for ideas on what is happening and who the _fuck _could be at the door of this place that I've never seen in my seventeen years of life.

Is it the actual owner of this place? Was there a party here last night and this is just someone coming to pick up some stuff? Is it Sophie?

Shakily I get to my feet and start to wobble towards the door to snoop at the little peephole embedded into the wood. Outside is an Asian girl, around my age or possibly younger, with long and straight black hair wearing some kind of sailor school uniform.

I have no idea who this person is, so I hesitate to answer the door or not. While debating the issue quietly, she knocks on the door again.

"_Mai-chan! Ja ii? Isoide! Chikaku suru yo,"_

I blink.

I blink again.

If my ears could blink, they would.

What the actual, living, fuck?

Am I imagining a Japanese girl in my drug induced haze or has my mystery pranker found a native Japanese teenager to play a prank on me?

"_Mai-chan?" _She knocks again.

Chan? _Chan? _This is... this is fucking _ridiculous. _Who the _fuck _would do this?

I yank the door open and glare at the girl fiercely. "Is this some kind of joke!?"

Her features widen with surprise at my outburst before scrunching up into confusion. "_Are? Mai?"_

At this point my vision is practically red. Do people find it _funny _to confuse people and mess with them like this? Drug them, shave their legs and cut their hair? "Why do you keep speaking Japanese?! Stop messing with me! What the fuck do you want? Who put you up to this?!"

She flinches, appearing even more baffled. "_Mai, waka-"_

"Stop calling me _Mai!_" I scream at her, my frustrations getting the better of me. "You want to keep speaking in Japanese and take the piss? Fine, fuck you then._ Fuck _you. _Fuzakeru na!"_

I swear at her with the little Japanese knowledge I have.

Like a lot of anime fans I suspect, I pick up a lot of words and phrases after watching several animes. Unlike a lot of anime fans, I am that sad person at school that has a very slight obsession with languages. So yes, I may have spent occasional hour learning hiragana and reading the Japanese dictionary, maybe following a Japanese vocabulary tumblr or YouTube channel.

However, French and German are more to my tastes, since I actually _study _those at school. And, y'know, they're easier.

Learning Japanese is more of a side project I started when I found anime and deemed Chinese too hard. It's not like I actually know how to form a proper sentence. Just the typical swear words, basic grammar, reading the basic kana alphabet, and the odd word. Like _senpai_ or _konno sekai._ Which isn't really much use to anyone when trying to hold a conversation.

Panting, I take a good look on her face. She looks like she's about to cry. She's either a bloody brilliant actor, or she's not acting.

_Not acting? Impossible. _My brain supplies to me, but it also tells me that one good look at her face and body posture is enough to realise that she has no idea what I'm talking about. Literally.

Except me telling her to fuck off.

"_Mai-chan... Wakarimasen..." _She sniffles, speaking some Japanese that I actually understand. "_Daijoubu desuka?"_

Am I okay?

No. No I am not fucking okay.

"_Iie, gomen," _I reply. _No, sorry. _

What the fuck do I do? Lie and say I have a cold? Shut the door in her face?

Ugh, fuck my life. What was a cold in Japanese again?

"_Kaze wo..." _Oh fuck I totally don't know how to finish that sentence. Shit. "_Eto, gomen nasai..." _

She looks at me strangely through teary eyes before making some awkward hand gesture. "_Iinda yo, hayaku genki ni natte!"_

Something like, 'that's okay, get better', or so I assume. She puts on a bright smile, totally fake of course, and waves at me.

"_Arigatou." _I thank her weakly then shut the door behind me. My mind takes a few moments to catch up.

What the actual _fuck _just happened.

I turn around and bang my head against the wood. Back pressing against the door, I slowly fall the the ground, knees to my chest.

I wonder if I say or think _what the fuck_ enough, someone will jump out at me and yell 'haha got you!', or maybe I'll just wake up.

"What the fuck." I breathe.

I don't wake up.

* * *

**Possible trigger warnings: **mention of drug usage and alcohol.

**If I have missed any trigger warnings, please PM me.**

Hey yall! I'm back with a remake on SQ! I have decided to name it 'Peregrination' - make of that what you will.

I have 3 aims for this fiction:

1\. Write at least 2,000 words per chapter (not including author notes)

2\. Update a _minimum _of once every two weeks. That means if I post earlier than my 2 week goal, my new 2 week goal starts from then.

3\. Actually finish it! No matter how long :)

If for some reason I can't update on time, I will put a new chapter up explaining why, and then take it down once I have updated. I hope you will enjoy my new piece of writing and become just as excited as me when wondering what will happen next! I also hope that my ability to write has improved, even just a little, since writing SQ.

Also I decided to post this earlier than I was going to originally, thank the crappy Nintendo direct that aired last night and didn't give me any animal crossing gameplay. So gutted that I decided to try and post this to feel better. ;-;

Peace out my dudes （*ω*）


	2. 二 Widdendream

Notes and potential trigger warnings will be at the bottom of each chapter.

**Widdendream: **_a state of mental disturbance or confusion._

* * *

Do you ever look in the mirror and think to yourself, 'oh wow I look different today'?

Nothing major, maybe it's just a good day and your smile just looks a bit prettier than normal. Or perhaps it's a bad day, and your nose seems to stick out more than usual. Same old same old, day to day thoughts.

After all that seems to have happened to me this morning, I don't even know why I was surprised when I finally looked in the mirror.

Numbly, I drag my slender fingers along my cheeks, which appear to have genuine cheekbones now instead of the cushiony texture of my normal hamster-like cheeks. My face is devoid of freckles, a distinct difference to my normal brown splashed nose and cheeks, and the general face shape is longer. No longer a round head with a wide button nose and thin lips.

In case you didn't realise, this is more than a 'oh-I-look-different-today' moment.

This is a 'holy-friggamoly-mother-Mary-of-Jesus-_fucking-_Christ-what-happened-to-my-_fucking-_face' moment.

Gone is the pale freckled English girl with hair down to her bellybutton. Instead, the Asian girl with cheekbones, bright eyes and chin length hair has appeared in her place.

My mind vacant, I turn away from the mirror.

Of all the scenarios I thought I'd experience in my life, I never thought I'd be the girl from 13 Going On 30. Although, instead of being in my older and more attractive body, I've got the face and figure of some Asian girl. Maybe it's more of a Kimi No Nawa moment then. Huh.

I've slowly crossed the threshold of this apartment and reached the door, where I slowly pull it open. A sensation of detachment flows through me as I walk out and into the hallway, turn right, and walk down some flights of stairs. I don't bother to take much notice of the bottom floor, or any of my surroundings for that matter, until I walk out of the building.

It's sunny.

Sunny and drizzling, just a little bit. Warm too. At least, warmer than the 3 degrees of typical British weather we've had all week.

Little by little, I turn around and gaze at my surroundings.

It's nothing out of the ordinary, not massively anyways. Just normal buildings, slightly run down but something akin to a cafe opposite the building I just left. The street is remarkably clean, almost sparkling, but that could just be the rain.

Waking up in an apartment that isn't one I'm familiar with, waking up with a different face and body, and then trying to speak to some random person in Japanese is all rather confusing and disorienting sure. But for some reason, being immersed in the warm rain and breathing in the fresh air just really confirms the idea that no, I am not in fact in my home town anymore.

A few people walking by mutter something intelligible while staring at me oddly. I frown at them wondering what the strange looks were for, when I realise that I'm only wearing some cotton pyjama trousers and a matching vest top. I haven't even got shoes or socks on. Whoops.

Hastily, I tuck my head down and run back into the apartment building, arms folded against my chest. My short strands of hair are slightly damp and there's a thin film of wet-cold sticking to my skin. As I make my way to the stairs and up, it suddenly occurs to me that I have absolutely no idea what floor this person's flat is, nor what her room number is. Did I even grab a key when I left?

I pat my cotton trousers. No pockets. "Shit."

The stairs creak ever so slightly as I walk up them until I reach the first floor. I don't recall walking that far from the door to the stairs, so I'm using that as an excuse to not venture far from the staircase area. Looking left into the hallway, nothing really jogs my memory so I choose to continue up the stairs, in the hopes I'll recognise something on the next floor.

The second floor is almost identical to the first, except there's one light on the ceiling that's out. Again, no memory is jogged.

"Please of please oh please please _please," _I mutter to myself as I reach the next floor. There are no more stairs, so if this isn't the right floor, I am _so _screwed.

When I peer into the last hallway, it still looked same as the others with one fairly major difference.

A few rooms down, there is one door that has been left wide open. Not even ajar, just left completely open.

I never thought I'd be saying this to myself, but thank _fuck _I forgot to close the door.

I walk towards it, but it mustn't even be three steps before an older women appears from inside the room. Her eyes widen when she sees me. My mind is processing the thought that holy crap, this old lady could be a _burglar_, until she speaks.

"_Mai-chan! Ah, hotto shita!" _I barely have the time to wonder who this woman is before she proceeds to walk towards me and envelop me in a hug. Not entirely sure what to do, I stand completely still for a moment until I choose to stiffly place my arms around her as well.

Is this a relative? Grandmother perhaps? Or just a close neighbour?

The woman leans back and removes her hands from my shoulders. When she speaks, I really try to understand her, I really do. It's just difficult when she's speaking so fast and I don't _actually _speak Japanese.

I catch a few words like '_shinpaideshita' _and _'kagi', _worried and key, so I think I understand what she's saying. Vaguely. Maybe.

I just nod along and make some 'hmmm' noises until she stops and looks at me silently. When I don't say anything, she frowns and finally utters a sentence that I completely understand.

"_Mai-chan, daijoubou desuka?"_

I shake my head. "_Iie, gomen-ne," _With a sheepishness that I'm not one hundred percent sure is fake, I scratch the back of my head and grin. "_Kaze wo-" _I fake cough to cover up my lack of Japanese knowledge, hoping I get the point across. It seems to work from what I can tell. Better than with the schoolgirl earlier at least.

The woman shushes and coos me back into the apartment room.

"_Kawai sou ni! Jibun o daiji ni shite kudasai,"_

_Kawai sou. _You poor thing? Poor you? Something like that. It comes up a lot in anime. The rest? Not a fucking clue.

"_Hai, arigatou gozaimasu." _I reply, in the hopes she did in fact ask a question that garners a yes-thank-you reply. The woman doesn't seem confused by my answer, so I count it as a win.

She continues to ramble for another 15 or so seconds with me nodding along, until I make out a _gomen nasai _and she bows ever so slightly. What she's apologising for, I can only guess. Maybe for just talking at me this whole time but yet again, I'll never know.

She says a few more Japanese words (basically gibberish) then gives me a small wave. "_Ja ne, Mai-chan!"_

I wave back. "_Ja ne!"_

When the old lady is out of sight, I slowly close the door behind her and breathe out a long sigh.

Right. Time to put the detective cap on. I have a few things to figure out, but where to start?

Turning around from the door, I gaze at the main room. It's not huge, but it's not uncomfortably small either. The flooring is completely wooden, with the exception of a pink rectangular rug in the middle of the room. I walk towards the centre of the room, where the rug and and two cream sofas reside. The rug is soft and fluffy underneath my toes.

I reach a wooden coffee table that's placed in front of the sofas, a few books and a single coaster resting on its surface.

Reaching for the books, I flip some pages and groan when I realise that they're all in Japanese. Of course, what did I think they were gonna be in, English?

The answer is yes, but I'm a confused and disoriented person okay give me a break. It's been a long day.

The rest of the room doesn't seem to have much in it either, just a few bookcases with next to no books in them and a large window. Hands on hips, I turn to face the view.

I could go left and have a peek at the little kitchenette thing, but I don't think I'd find anything useful in there. My best bet is to check to other side of the apartment, where this person's - Mai's, as it seems everyone is calling me - bedroom is. And bathroom, but that also doesn't seem like it would be very useful.

With a determined sigh, I head towards the bedroom and walk in. It's still dark, the only light that's getting in being the tiny rays struggling to make their way through the blinds.

The bedroom is quite small, about a quarter the size of the lounge, so it only takes about 4 steps for me to reach the window. Sunlight attacks my eyes when I pull the cord too quickly, my eyes squinting to adjust. Once the white spots in my vision calm down, I take a proper look at my surroundings.

It's not that messy at all, or at least not as messy as my own bedroom at home. There are no clothes strewn on the floor or random pieces of paper that need to be thrown away. There _is_ a random book next to the door though, which I move to pick up and throw on the unmade bed.

Two bedside drawers sit either side of the bed, dark and wooden. Oak maybe?

On the side of the bed closest to the door is also a table with a set of draws down the right side. A swirly chair is tucked underneath the tabletop and a circular mirror is hung on the white wall.

Damn. A hecka lotta drawers in here compared to the living room.

I make my way around the bed to get to the table, moving the door out of my way when something _thumps _onto the floor. Twisting my head, I realise that upon moving the door, a grey dressing gown and brown back pack has fallen to the floor.

I blink. A _bag._

Grinning to myself, I lean down to pick it up. Its a little heavier than I anticipated, so I bring choose to take a seat on the swirly chair before snooping at the contents.

It totally has nothing to do with the fact I love swirly chairs. Nothing at all.

I unbutton the flap and flip it open, shoving my hand inside and grabbing the first thing I touch. I pull it out.

Another book. Jesus wept.

Throwing that book onto the bed, I deliberately pick out the other two books I can see in the bag and chuck those ones with the other books on the bedraggled duvet as well.

Now that the bag is relatively empty, I'm free to roam around the rest of its belongings. There's a striped pencil case with nothing useful inside, a small zippy bag with plasters and some menstrual goodies inside, and a tube of lipgloss and mascara. I grab the last item.

It's a small, black leather purse with a stitched flower on one side. I unzip it. There are only a few notes inside and some funky looking coins with holes in the middle. Money will definitely come in handy at some point, depending on if I get myself out of this mess or not.

There doesn't seem to be anything else inside the zippy compartment of the purse, so I zip it up again and pull out a side which is buttoned down. It reveals a myriad of cards of all colours, red green blue you name it, plus two photographs slid into some adjacent pockets with clear plastic.

One photo I recognise as this's person's - Mai's faces along with two other girls, one of whom I am almost certain is the girl from this morning. Close friend's then. On the other side of the purse are what appears to be a middle aged couple, the woman with long dark hair and the male with short curly brown hair. They're both smiling into the camera happily and the woman is holding a baby in her arms.

Her parents, I realise. Why would she keep a photo of them? I mean, sure, I have a cute photo of my mum and dad on their wedding day in my room, have done since they got separated and divorced because it's the only cute picture I have of both my parents together. But I don't exactly carry it around with me everywhere. So why would-

No, no, I'm thinking into this too much. People can carry photos of their parents around with them if they want to. There are definitely worse things out there someone could choose to stuff into their purse.

But still, it suddenly occurs to me the utter _lack _of any adult in the apartment and how there's only _one _bedroom.

It clicks. Aw man, don't tell me I've swapped bodies with an orphan. Oh no. Please.

_Fuck. _I just _had _to take the place of a parentless teenager. Not only have they lost their parents, but now they've been deprived of their _body. _Bloody brilliant. Ugh. I seriously hope this is a dream more than ever.

I let out a breath and silently scold myself to get back to the task at hand: checking out all these cards. Most of the pretty ones seem to be shop rewards cards, not super useful so I put them to one side. There're two bank cards, one blue one red. I place these two next to my colourful pile of useless cards.

There is one remaining card in the purse, poking out at me from the last little slit. I pull it out and turn it to the side.

There's a photo of Mai on it, lots of kanji, and some numbers as well.

I blink.

This is a bloody _ID _card. Oh _man _this beauty has practically _everything _about Mai on it, full name, place of birth, date of birth and all that. With this, I can google the _shit _outta this chick.

One point for me, whoop-di-_fricking_-whoop!

Grinning to myself, I set down the card and give it a good once over. My grin does not last.

How the fuck did I forget that I can't read kanji?

A long, frustrated groan rumbles in my throat as I bury my face in my hands. So much for my detective skills.

Minus one hundred points for me, whoop-di-fucking-whoop.

* * *

**Possible trigger warnings: **none.

**If I have missed any potential triggers, pleas PM me.**

Hey again y'all! Made it in the nick of time. ;-) was planning on writing more for this chapter, but I reached my 2,000 word target and I found a decent way to end it. Don't you worry my friendy friends, more is to come!

I also hope you don't think it's going too slowly. I found SQ kinda wished into things and Bex accepted her fate a bit too easily, so I'm hoping this one will give off a better vibe. Maybe. Who knows.

I also wanted to say thank you so much to those that have commented on my first chapter! Like, wow guys, you seriously know how to up a girl's esteem. I'm sorry if I haven't replied yet, I will get to it at some point! :D

The fun will start soon my friends. Soon.

Peace out my dudes!（*ω*）


	3. 三 Cognisance

_Notes and potential trigger warnings will be at the bottom of each chapter._

_If you are unaware of the meanings of the words kanji, hiragana, katakana, kana, or romaji, I recommend you scroll to the end of this chapter before reading. I have written some explanations there._

**Cognisance**: _awareness, realisation, or knowledge._

* * *

Removing my head from my hands, I ungracefully lean forward onto the bed. It creaks as the plastic cards scatter to the sides. One falls to the floor.

Why the hell does all this _shit_ have to happen to me? I mumble my frustrations into the pink linen.

"Why _me_?" The sound is muffled by the cold fabric, my breath warming it up only slightly.

I move away, knees resting uncomfortably on the wooden floor and sigh.

What to do.

My fingers twirl some short brown strands of hair while I try to work up the energy on snooping some more. Instead, my mind keeps straying to how cold and icky I feel. Even my hair is still slightly damp. I guess I haven't quite dried off yet.

Damn. Thinking about it, my skin is still a little bit wet and chilly from exposure to the rain. I could really do with a shower.

Groaning, I push myself up from the floor and stretch my limbs. Detective work can wait, cleanliness is more important. And a nice warm shower will probably help me get my head in gear.

I step outside of the bedroom and head towards the bathroom. It's barely even a metre from the door, but the room is roughly the same size as the bedroom. I grab two towels from the hand rail to my left and dump them on a wooden basket besides the bath before peeling of the pyjama vest top and cotton trousers. I throw them on the floor besides the toilet, but then think better of it and place them in the laundry basket instead.

The shower curtain is stretched out, multicoloured spots displayed in the open. I think we used to have one like that at home, but mum opted for stripes a few years back instead.

I yank the thin material back to reveal the shower and bath taps. Now, I don't know about anyone else's experience with new showers, but for me it's almost like a puzzle from Professor Layton, trying to figure out exactly how a different shower works without instructions. And hotel showers? They're the _worst._

The mechanism below has a dial, with a little knob at the top. Red dots are scattered across the left side while blue adorn the left.

Left for heat, right for cold. Basic stuff then. I twist it counterclockwise for the warmth.

There's a silver lever below the dial that's tilted all the way to the left, presumably the on and off switch for the water flow. I give it a experimental pull to the right, and low and behold the water starts to flow from the shower head. My hand flutters underneath the stream for a moment before I snatch it back.

_Way _too hot.

I shake my scorching hand, as if that will cool it down, and gently push the temperature dial a little more to the right. When it's 45 degrees further away from boiling, I wave my hand underneath the water again.

Still hot but... a good hot.

I step into the tub a pull the shower curtain closed behind me. As the water rains pellets of heat onto my back, I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

Man, I don't think the human populace appreciates nice warm showers enough. It's a person's own form of therapy, a liquid heat that calms your nerves and soothes your mind. The only thing more therapeutic perhaps is a bath, with some nice bubbles or a bath bomb.

I close my eyes and let the water trickle down my skin and soak my hair, inhaling the steam. It must be about a minute until I decide my hair's wet enough for some shampoo.

Slowly, I turn away from the shower head and face the other end of the bathtub, where a small metal rack is hanging from the wall. There are only three plastic bottles sitting on the side, a fair difference to the usual six different shampoos and conditioners, three different body lotions, and two blackhead scrubs that decorate our shelf at home. Then again, I live with my mum and younger brother but this girl must live by herself.

Reaching down, I pick up two purple bottles that look identical, except the lids are on opposite ends. I'm about open one of the lids and squeeze the contents out to see if I can figure out if it's shampoo or conditioner, when I spot some English at the bottom of each bottle.

Huh. I guess the Japanese thought it would be a good idea to put the English for 'Shampoo' and 'Conditioner' on their products. Lucky for me, I guess.

My mind blanks out for a few moments as I apply the shampoo and stare emptily at the tiled wall, just letting the water run freely down my body. Or, not my body.

Still scrubbing my scalp, I take a little peek down below. Come on, can you blame me? Don't tell me you wouldn't wanna take a good look at someone else's body if you happened to be stuck in it.

And it's pretty decent, to be fair. Flat stomach, but not one of those tummy's that looks unnaturally flat. There's still that little roundness over the pelvis, just not quite as much as I had. Not that I had _lots_ of flab, I just probably needed to lay off the ice cream and go to a gym once in a while. And bloating is a bitch.

Legs are alright too, pretty decent, as legs go. Maybe it's because they're shaved and look shiny. However, at least it's good to know she doesn't shave down _there. _I mean, there's no way I woulda kept that up and I wouldn't be able to stand the itching. Yeesh.

The only thing she is probably lacking from, is the boob department. I mean, compared to my body at least. It's not like her breasts are _small_ \- probably a B or C at my guess - but they're not the great hulking water balloons I had to carry around on my tiny person. I've always wondered what it would be like to have smaller breasts and to actually be able to wear those pretty bras with lacy straps. I guess now's the time to find out.

I rinse out the hair, mourning at the wasted shampoo. Clearly I was still in the mindset of thick, bellybutton length hair, and not short chin length strands. Oh well. Hopefully Mai uses cheap shampoo.

I'm more careful with the conditioner. After it's been applied, I take a dollop of lotion from the third and final bottle, which I completely assume is some kind of body wash. I scrub it over as you do, feeling up these funky breasts (Which are a bit of a disappointment, they aren't as fun to squeeze as mine. Oh well.) and then rinse.

Once the shower is turned off, I reach for the smaller towel to wrap around my head like a turban, only to once again discover that the hair is too short to accomplish said task.

"God's sake." I mumble to myself, reaching for the larger towel to wrap around me. I let the hair stick to my face.

Walking to the bedroom, I tuck the corner of the towel underneath another layer so it stays up. The wardrobe isn't that large, but once I open the doors it still seems like there are more clothes in here than I have ever owned. I end up tugging a pair of stretchy grey trousers and a baggy looking pink t-shirt, the epitome of comfort clothes. I chuck those onto the bed covers. All I need now are some underwear.

I contemplate checking the bedside table, since that's where my mother keeps her socks, but I notice a drawer at the bottom of the wardrobe. Crouching down, I pull it open.

Nice! Bras, pants, and socks in one. This probably shouldn't feel like such an achievement, but hey ho. At least I don't have to search the room high and low in a towel.

I rummage through the collection of underwear, the socks pants and bras separated into three boxes. The knickers are pretty plain, mostly cotton. No funky socks either, just plain colours. I chuck a random pair onto the bed.

Finally, the bras. I flick through them, searching for something pretty. I'm disappointed.

I mean sure, the straps definitely aren't as bulky as my 30E bras at home, but at least mine have _colour. _What, there are three skin coloured bras, two black, two white, and one blue? Where is the lace? The polka dots? The funky dunky patterns?

Such. A disappointment.

I pick up the pale blue bra and a white one then hold them in front of me, still crouched on the ground. As I move to throw the blue one with the rest of the clothes, something from inside the wardrobe catches my eye.

I put both bras down and lean forward to peer at the base of the wardrobe, just above the drawer. There are some clothes in the way, so I push them to the side.

A laptop. A bloody _laptop. _

Practically salivating, I lift up the grey machinery, turn to the side a place it on my the bed, eye level to me.

Oh man, this baby could be an absolute _gold mine. _As long as it's not password protected.

"Please please please oh _please," _I mutter, slowly lifting up the top half. It flickers on.

I breathe out. "Thank _God." _A home screen appears onto the display, whether it was just left logged on or never needed logging onto in the first place I don't really care. A quick glance at the keys shows that it's a romaji qwerty keyboard, with the except of a hiragana character in the bottom right corner of each key.

I rest my head onto the keyboard, the buttons clicks. Man, now I really have something I can snoop with. I don't even really need to snoop, Google is a girl's best friend after all.

I remove my face from the laptop and slowly move it to the floor, besides my towel that has slipped off at some point. Eager to get researching all possible explanations of my situation, I hurriedly throw on all the random pieces of clothing that I chose earlier and towel dry my hair for about ten seconds. Then, I pick up the laptop with one hand, push all of Mai's plastic cards into the bag from earlier, and carry them all to the living room. There, I dump the contents of my arms onto the coffee table and collapse onto the sofa.

Okay. I'm ready.

I lift the laptop from its place on the coffee table and adjust it onto my crossed legs, google at the ready. My fingers hover over the keys, not sure of what to type. There's so much to look up, I don't even know where to start.

After a few moments of contemplation, I decide to type 'How can you tell if you're dreaming?' into the search engine. Pretty sure I'm not dreaming at this point, but might as well eliminate that option.

The first thing that pops up is a little quora question and answer. I click on it.

There's a fair amount of writing that I can't be bothered with, so I scroll down slightly until I reach a part that explains some kind of technique to tell if you're dreaming.

"This technique is used not only to identify when you are in a lucid dream, but to induce a lucid dream," I read aloud.

Lucid dream huh? I know they say those seem very real, but I am 99.9% sure that this is _way _to real. Got to test it anyway though, I guess.

"Step one, look at your hand."

I blink. Alrighty then. My eyes move towards my hand. Step one complete.

"Step two, ask yourself if this is a dream." I have to hold back a laugh for that one, since I've been saying that to myself for God knows long.

"Step three, look away." I do as it says for a few seconds before reading the final step.

"Look back at your hand."

Y'know thinking about it, I remember an episode from Teen Wolf where one of my favourite characters was stuck in a dream, and his mate told him to check his hand. He had an extra like, five fingers and then woke up since it turns out he was dreaming.

My hands have the correct number of fingers and do not appear disfigured, stretchy, purple, or _whatever, _as this quora user has stated.

Dream option definitely blown of the water.

I go back to the Google page and think of something else to search. I've already crossed dream off the list and I thought I could've been drugs earlier, but it definitely would've worn off by now _and _I'm not really showing all the symptoms of drug or alcohol use. No point in searching for that, so I cross substance abuse off of my imaginary list.

Prank is also off the table. No one could pull this off.

Reluctantly, I type 'Is it possible to swap bodies with someone?" into the search engine. I don't expect much, but surprisingly there seem to be a few scientific entries. I scroll down and click on one that says something about '5 scientific reasons why body swapping might be possible'.

I skip past the intro like they have in most of these internet blogs until I get to the list of reasons.

_Number 5: Head transplant_.

Absolutely not. Next.

_Number 4: Mind uploading._

Right, because some scientist had the time to download my mind and upload it into some Asian girl who lives on the other side of the globe. In one night. Next.

_Number 3: Reincarnation._

That would require death, which I don't remember happening to me recently. Plus, who _dies _and then gets reincarnated into a teenager? Next.

_Number 2: Drugs._

The _hell? _I skim read the explanation for this one, but it's nothing short of a disappointment. Just some crap about putting two people on ketamine or DMT and then attach wires to each other's head. The drugs make them believe they are in the others body for a while. Again, pretty sure that is _not _what's happened here. Next.

_Number 1: Skin suits._

Gross.

Okay, so that was pretty freaking useless. The only part that came close to useful, was this tiny part underneath the 'Reincarnation' section, where they vaguely explain the importance of biocentrisim, e.g. the notion that we will never understand the secrets of the universe with just physics alone, how biology is actually the key to the universe. Kinda like how I feel I'm never going to find out what has happened to me. I mean, physics hasn't even explained consciousness yet, let alone why my consciousness is now in some other person's body. Then again, biology hasn't either. Maybe it's a mixture of both that I need to understand what's happened. A bit of biology to learn how my being is in someone else's body and using their brain, and a bit of physics to explain how my awareness has been transferred to someone else.

God I _hate _physics. Biology is fine, that's interesting and easy to wrap head around. Chemistry is eh. But _physics. _Oh good _lord. _

Don't get me wrong I think it's fascinating, just insanely difficult to fully comprehend. I mean, it's 99% theory, rather than fact. Then again, gravity is technically a theory, granted a completely accepted one. I mean, you try and find someone that doesn't believe gravity exists.

Wait, don't answer that. Probably wouldn't be too hard with all the flat-earthers and anti-vaxxers out there.

Anyhow my point is, physics is hard and I don't think I can be arsed to suddenly start teaching myself difficult physics to unlock the secrets of consciousness.

But then again, I kinda want to know how to get myself back to normal.

Ugh, dilemmas.

I keep searching the internet for anything useful regarding body swapping, mind swapping, the consciousness and so forth, but most of it is either completely ridiculous or just has absolutely nothing of value. I swear most of these articles must be written by failed graduate students.

I'm about to quit when I come across some parapsychological article about the mind and telepathy. It's on the 26th page along, so not really what I intended to search for, but I've been through God knows how many websites and I'm desperate. I skim through the mini introduction, 'Hi I'm Dr Such-And-Such and this article is based on my study regarding telepathy and the mind'. Wonderful. Ten stars.

I'm halfway through reading it, when a passage catches my eye.

"The subjects showed a stronger telepathic link when the pair exhibited similar traits, of any kind. It's similar to blood types - if one person has a certain personality, thought process, or even been through similar experiences, the telepathic bond between the two were much stronger than those with nothing in common, just as a transfusion works best between two with compatible blood types."

That... surprisingly makes sense. Of course assuming that telepathy is real. I'm open to believe almost anything now to be honest, I don't think it can get much weirder than it already is.

The author goes on to explain some brain scans he took of his subjects and the pattern of impulses fired within the brain during the experiment. It's a very interesting read and I mumble most of it out loud, just to make sure I don't miss anything.

"Two of the volunteers, both women with extremely similar backgrounds, exhibited an extraordinary result. Please examine these clips of neurons firing impulses within the brains. The first clip shows both womens' brain activity at the very start of the experiment."

I scroll underneath this passage and sure enough, there is a twenty second clip with two blodgy green images side by side. I click play.

A few lights flash up simultaneously in the same areas in each image, the only difference being that there were a few flashes in the bottom of the left picture, but no additional flashes in the right. After a few seconds, the right flashes somewhere else that the left doesn't. Then, they both flash in the middle.

The pattern repeats, a few flashes identical and some different, while slowly speeding up over the twenty seconds. When the clip finishes, I read below the video, not out loud this time.

_The clip on the left shows the brain activity of volunteer A, while the one on the right portrays volunteer B. Both images are taken from the exact same portion of the brain. Where they flash in identical positions shows when their telepathic link is synced. I have found that the more similar the impulse patterns, the stronger the connection between the volunteers. This connection was by far the strongest. As you can see from clip, there were impulses that differed from the volunteers. This is completely normal, as they are not the same person and every brain works slightly differently. Impulses will be firing at slightly different places and times. Now, please watch the second clip below._

I blink. It's strange how they've made this seem completely reasonable, backed up with scientific data and all. Telepathy. Now that _is _something I would love to be real.

I scroll down for the second video.

It's much the same as the first with the impulses flashing at the same positions and times as the previous video. However, there is soemthing that seems slightly different. I can't place it the first time around so I play the video again.

_There._

In the original video, there was a flash on the bottom left corner of the left image for volunteer A. In this video, the flash is no longer there but instead in the bottom left of the rightermost image. A few seconds later there should have also been a flash on the right clip, but instead it flashes on the left. How odd.

There are a few more anomalies but I don't pay as much attention to them. I scroll down to read the explanation below the video.

_You may have noticed that this clip was similar to the original, but not quite identical. You would be almost correct._

"Almost?" I mumble to myself, confused. The two videos are not identical, end of. Different impulses in the two different images. Some are the same sure, the the clips as a whole are not.

_If you studied the clips further and played them side by side, you may realise that both videos are identical, except the two clips have been switched. The clip that is on the left side in the original video is now on the right for the second video._

I'm sorry, what? _What? _I bring the page back to the two clips and play them again. I'm careful to watch every single little burst of light on each side and replay each video several times when I finally come to the conclusion that the two videos do indeed show the same impulse pattern, just swapped over.

I groan slightly, annoyed at the fact that I've wasted precious time watching two videos that are exactly the same. I move back to my previous place and read the rest the article has to offer.

_The clips have not in fact been swapped. Volunteer A is on the left side of both video while volunteer B is on the right._

I stare at this one sentence. "Huh?" So... the videos haven't been swapped over, they just _look_ like they have?

I stare some more.

_While the first video shows the brain activity of the subjects during the very beginning of the experiment, the second shows the activity a few minutes after the telepathic connection has been established. _

"No way," I breathe, eager to read the rest.

_After a certain amount of time, volunteer A's brain exhibited patterns that before were exclusive to volunteer B's, and vice versa. Once the experiment halted, both volunteers reported that they felt some form of out of body experience, where they believe they saw through the others eyes and could move the other's body as if it were their own. I have theorised that if the subjects' telepathic connection is strong enough, then it is possible to literally implant your consciousness into someone else's mind. More research is needed to find the exact circumstances in which one's telepathic link is strong enough, but that should come with time._

I hurriedly read the rest of the article until I come to the end and search for the authors name. It's signed by a Dr. Dark, but there's nothing else about the author either. I take the page back to the top to see if there was anything else in the introduction, but again it only mentioned the researchers name and the premise of the article.

Google isn't much help either, all I can get from that is a television series call 'Doctor Dark' and a character from Jimmy Neutron, also called 'Dr. Dark'. I try typing in 'Dr Dark parapsychology' hoping that would narrow down my search, but yet again nothing useful turns up. I change 'parapsychology' to 'telepathy experiment', but there's _still _nothing useful, not even that article from earlier pops onto the screen. At a loss, I press the back button twice to re-read the article, but instead of it loading an error message pops up.

"What the-" I refresh the page a few times but it doesn't seem to recognise the URL.

_An error has occurred. This webpage does not exist._

Hate to burst your bubble internet, but it _does _exist because I was just _on _it. For God's sake, I should've just stayed on the page.

I lean back into the couch with a groan and rub my face. What now? All I've managed to find is an article on telepathy that could be a hoax and a name of someone that might not even exist. And _now _I don't even have the article. At least I managed to read it I suppose. If what the article said is even remotely true I've managed to learn a few things that could help.

Sure, I wasn't involved in an experiment of any kind - at least I don't think I was - but maybe a telepathic link was formed between me and this... Asian girl. Far fetched I know but hey, again, I'll believe in almost anything at this point.

According to the report, Dr. Dark's theory was that in order for the telepathic link to be powerful enough to allow a body swap, the two people in question must have something in common. The more in common they had, or the more similar their brains worked, the more likely a body swap is going to be induced.

Actually, maybe I should call it mind swap from now on. If it was a body swap, I'd still be in England with my mind, but in a different body. Instead, my mind has moved across the continents and been inserted into a different body.

Mind swap it is.

So, my mind swap must have been allowed to happen due to something that Mai and I have in common. Maybe the key to returning to my own body is what we have in common?

Major leap I know, but it's as good a place to start as any.

Now to do a thorough background check on Mai - and where else is better to start than social media? Hopefully her Facebook page is just as unprotected as her laptop.

I search for the website and click on the login link, fingers crossed. When it loads, I'm disappointed to see that she has either logged out, or doesn't have a Facebook account. She hasn't even saved her email in the username section; it's all _blank._

I search for her Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram, Outlook, _anything_, but none of it is logged into or has a username saved. Just my luck. I don't even know what kanji this girl uses for her name.

Not sure what else I can even do at this point, I type into the search engine.

_'まい name kanji'._

The first link that comes up already shows more than one combination of kanji characters to make the name 'Mai', the three most common being 舞, 麻衣, or 真愛.

Damn Japanese language. Why do you need so many different characters for the same bloody name?

In the back of my head I hear the little language-obsessed voice telling me that I know _exactly_ why they have several different characters with the same pronunciation, but I shoo it away to stop it pissing me off. Now is not the time to appreciate the linguistics of Japanese, now is time to be annoyed with it.

My eyes slide over to the bag lying on the floor, forgotten.

Mai's _cards._

Her shopping cards might have her name on them, and if they don't her ID card definitely will. Plus, her surname would be besides her given name, so I could figure out her full name and search her up! Genius, absolute genius. Might take a while to search through all the kanji to figure out which ones Mai's surname uses, but it's not like I have anything else to do.

I lean forward and place the laptop besides me on the couch, emptying the contents of the bag onto the table. Items scatter to the table but I shove aside anything that isn't a little plastic oblong.

I'm moving them around, searching for the ID card which doesn't seem to have fallen onto the table with the other multicoloured cards. I start to turn and pick up the bag when I spot a debit card fallen to the floor. It's blue, flipped so it's face side up.

I didn't realise that Japanese debit cards had the card holder's name written in romaji. I'm also not sure how on _Earth _I missed Mai's name earlier, scrawled out underneath the long card number in shiny, silver writing. Maybe I was just a bit stressed.

I gingerly pick it up and brush my fingers over the embossed plastic.

_Mai Taniyama._

* * *

**Possible trigger warnings: **_mention of drugs, no usage._

**If I have missed any potential triggers, please PM me.**

Hey again y'all! May or may not be a few days late, _but _this chapter is twice the length of the others _and _I literally lost 1,000 words or so of work because the stupid app didn't save my work! Then again, they were written on the dregs of sleep so writing it for a second time when I was slightly more awake probably made it suck less.

I would also like to clarify that any sciencey stuff will be 99% made up, after all, there's no way telepathy and mind swapping actually exists. Right?

Anyhow, thank you those that have commented and liked my work, please continue to do so! I like to see people's ideas on what's going to happen next. ;-)

Hope you enjoy!

Peace out my dudes（*ω*）

P.S. For those that are unsure of Japanese linguistic terms: read below!

**Learning is fun!**

The Japanese have several scripts, unlike the western world's one alphabet.

**Kana: **this is the generalised term for Japanese writing systems that are syllabic. Each character will represent one sound and one sound only, with a few minor exceptions. There are three kana scripts: hiragana, katakana, and man'yōgana. Man'yōgana was the first syllabic writing system for the Japanese and is ancient, it is not used in modern Japanese.

**Hiragana: **this cursive script is a syllabary. It has 46 symbols which each represent a certain syllable. 5 of the symbols will represent each vowel, and the remaining portray a sound that begins with a consonant and ends with a vowel sound. The Japanese do not have a character for just one consonant, instead they have symbols that portray a consonant at the start of a syllable, but ends in a different vowel sound. For example, there is no 't' in Japanese. Instead they have a separate character for _ta, te, chi, to, tsu (た,て,ち,と,つ). _The one exception to this is the character ん, which sounds like _n, m, _or _ng. _Every other character is either a vowel, or a consonant-vowel combination. Hiragana is commonly used by children when they do not know the kanji.

**Katakana: **katakana is almost the same as hiragana in that it is a syllabic writing system, has 46 characters, and they are all pronounced exactly the same as the hiragana characters. There are two main differences. The first is that the katakana characters look very different to the hiragana characters. For example, where _a _in hiragana is あ, _a _in katakana is ア. The second difference is the purpose. Where hiragana is used in everyday sentences, to conjugate verbs, and to show people how to pronounce any Japanese word, katakana is not. Katakana is primarily used for either the spelling of western words, e.g. バター (_batā) _meaning butter, for emphasis (like _italics), _or onomatopoeia. A popular one would be ドキドキ (_doki doki), _the sound of a heart beat. It is also used for technical and scientific terms, as well as plants, animals, minerals, and sometimes Japanese companies.

**Kanji: **this script contains thousands of different characters. Each character has a different meaning and corresponds to a different word. Many different characters can be pronounced differently in certain contexts, such as 人, which can be prounounced as _nin _(e.g. 五人, _go nin, _meaning five people) or _jin _(e.g. 日本人, _nihon jin, _meaning Japanese person). As you can see, the character 人 has a specific meaning, but can be prounced differently in certain contexts. This is the same as other kanji characters as well.

While written Chinese is exclusively made up from kanji characters (in Chinese they are hànzì), Japanese must use a combination of kanji and kana in order for the written language to make sense, as not every word in Japanese has a kanji equivalent. For example the word and, と (_to_) is only used in hiragana, no kanji. Verbs are also a mixture of kanji and hiragana, the hiragana section being responsible for the conjugation. For example, 食べる, _taberu, _meaning to eat or will eat, and 食べた, _tabeta, _ate or have eaten. 食べ, _tabe, _is the stem of the verb and is a mixture of kanji and hiragana, 食 (_ta) _being kanji and べ (_be) _being hiragana. The hiragana that follows the stem will determine the tense of the verb.

**Rōmaji: **while you may not recognise this word, you will certainly recognise the alphabet. That's right, it's the good ol' Latin script! Romaji simply means 'Roman characters' and it isn't used very frequently in Japan, but it does occasionally appear on brands or advertising.

Hope this helps!


	4. 四 Indagation

Notes and potential trigger warnings will be at the bottom of each chapter.

**Indagation**: _the act of investigating or researching._

* * *

You know, I'm sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for this.

Oh god, how can my own words give me déjà vu? That is, if déjà was for thinking or saying the same thing, instead of seeing anyways. Déjà pensé, or déjà dit, perhaps.

While maybe, _maybe_, I can just about accept that my mind has been implanted into some other girl's head from across the globe, I absolutely can't accept _this._ Mind swapping with an _anime_ character?

Yeah, I dont think so.

I'm sure Mai Taniyama isn't that uncommon a name to have in the Japanese populace. I mean, there must be other Mai's out there with bobbed hair, no parents or siblings, lives by themselves, and is still in school. It's just a coincidence. A mere coincidence.

I flip the laptop screen up.

My fingers flit across the keys until the words Mai _Taniyama_ have filled the search bar and press enter.

Facebook links fill the page, a few other social media accounts also popping up. To most people, I'm sure this would be completely normal. Type in someone's name, Facebook pages pop up. That tends to happen when you Google a random person.

Mai Taniyama however, is not a normal person.

Mai Taniyama is a fictional character in an anime.

It would be an understatment to say I'm confused by the lack of 'Ghost Hunt' related links.

But hey, maybe Mai changed her search preferences so anime and manga related searches are put towards the end of a page. However, clicking on the final page of my search just comes up with more random Facebook links.

I add the words _Ghost_ _Hunt_ after Mai's name in the Google search bar in the hopes that something will show up.

A few links to 'Haunted Happenings' crop up, mixed in with a few more social media pages. Nothing for the anime.

Deleting the previous search, I type something else.

Ghost hunt anime.

My eyes fix to the screen.

_Ghost Stories. Ghost Hound. Ghost in the Shell._

Yet again, no _Ghost Hunt._

This is absolutely not happening right now. _Ghost Hunt_ cant just... not exist.

My heart and mind in a frenzy, I search for the author and creator, Fuyumi Ono. I breathe a sigh of relief when she at least exists then click on her Wikipedia page.

_Fuyumi Ono is a Japanese novelist best known for writing The Twelve Kingdoms, which was adapted into a popular anime series. She is married to Yukito Ayatsuji, the author of the horror novel 'Another'._

Awesome. Definitely the Fuyumi I want. I scroll down until I reach the 'Works' section and expand the list.

Of course, only to be disappointed.

First, Mai Taniyama nor Ghost Hunt seem to exist on the internet, and now it seems that Fuyumi Ono, the author of the entire series, never actaully wrote it in the first place?!

That definitely cannot be right.

Staring at the screen, I contemplate what I should research to destroy the idea that I now the protaganist in an anime. After all, just because I cant find anything about Ghost Hunt online doesnt suddenly mean I'm in the anime. There are plenty of other explanations that are less far fetched than mind swapping with a character from a television programme.

There is however, something that I am positive will only exist in the universe of Ghost Hunt.

Shibuya Psychic Research.

Or the Society of Psychic Research or whatever. If I am indeed still in the normal world, which I must be, then the results od my search should just be a wiki page on Ghost Hunt, or something related. Or maybe it will just come up with nothing since this laptop doesnt seem to like the anime all that much.

And of course if I was in the world of the anime, hypothetically speaking, links towards the company would pop up.

I take a deep breath before typing and another before pressing the enter key.

Fuck's sake.

The very very first thing that comes up is a Google Maps image for a building located in Shibuya. Of course, for a company called Shibuya Psychic Research.

"This can't be happening!" I half yell half moan before burying my face into the cushions of the sofa.

_Dear God,_

_What did I do to deserve this? Why oh why did you have to pick me, out of all the people in this world, to be a part if some real life isekai novel?_

_Sincerely,_

_Rebecca Q_

_An Atheist, But Now I'm Not So Sure_

Raising my head, I stare at the Google Maps image. Shibuya Psychic Research, huh? I wonder if Mai has already started work with Naru, or if they have yet to meet. I suppose it doesn't matter too much, since getting back to my original world and home is the top priority.

I don't even bother to search for genuine isekai cases, I was lucky enough to find an actual experiment on telepathy and mind swapping let alone changing universes.

Speaking of the mind swap study, is it possible that the author might have some kind of knowledge or and idea about my situation? Their article was quite out there compared to the average scientific study. It's not exactly far fetched to say he may have researched alternate universes as well.

The main issue is behind the identity of said scientist. I wasn't able to find any information at all on a Dr. Dark, and even that article I read earlier seems to have disappeared from the internet. It's almost as if they don't want to be found, at least not by common members of the public. I mean, I did manage to read that thesis on the telepathy experiment, however the moment I navigated away from the page I couldnt acutally access it again.

Was it actually supposed to be on a private domain or some kind of secret server and I accidently saw it by mistake? Did someone realise that I had accessed the website and then block me from seeing it again? I feel like that would be too much of a coincidence, but who knows.

Either way, this 'Dr. Dark' might be my one lead to getting the hell out of here. Finding out how to get in contact with them is going to be a pain though if there isn't any information online. I don't recall any names of subjects being written in the experiment report either. Maybe I could get in contact with some scientific research organisations or institutions and see if they know of a Dr. Dark?

My fingers hover over the keys, about to type something along the lines of 'famous scientific institutions' when a thought stops me. Or more precisely, the current page of the laptop screen stops me.

Shibuya Psychic Research.

A branch of BSPR, the British Society of Psychic Research.

Surely in this world, where the main story revolves around Naru and SPR, BSPR must be one of, if not the most, famous research institution.

Yes, while Naru may be a psychic researcher, he is first and foremost a _scientist._ Plus, telepathy isn't exactly the norm for a study conducted in a regular scientific research centre. A psychic research centre based around science and facts however...

It's _perfect._

Mysterious scientists definitely fits the organistion's MO, since Naru is actually the esteemed Oliver Davis whose identity remains a secret, except to a select few. That means if someone knows who Dr. Dark is...

It would be Naru. Or someone else high up in BSPR.

This is of course all entirely speculation. I could be completely wrong and this Dr. Dark person is some American living the high life at the CDC. Or a government official. Again, who knows.

But it's worth a shot.

First, I need a phone. I contemplate looking for a mobile, but Mai has a home phone literally 3 feet away from the sofa so I grab that instead.

I glance at the laptop screen.

The number for SPR is right there, glowing in front of me. If numbers were humans, I would say they were taunting me.

Slowly, I take a deep breath.

_Fuck._ I'm actually doing this, aren't I. I'm about to call the workplace of an anime character - no, _two _anime characters - that shouldn't exist.

My fingers type the digits onto the phone, a low pitched buzz sounding every time I press a button. The dial tone sounds as I hold the phone to my ear.

After the second ring, I start to fidget. What if they don't pick up? Do I try again? Oh God, what if they do pick up? What do I even start with? Who will actually answer the phone? Lin or Naru? I should've practised what I was going to say first. It's not too late I can just hang up and practise my words. Yeah. I can just do that. Practise makes perfect right?

The phone clicks.

"_O denwa arigatou gozaimasu. Watakushi Shibuya Saikkiku Risaachi no Shibuya Kazuya de gozaimasu._"

My mouth goes dry. Yet again, how did I forget that I was in Japan and that the people here speak _Japanese._ God I'm such an idiot. I give my brain a few seconds to try and work out what was said.

Thank you for something, probably calling based on the context, and then he said 'Shibuya Psychic Research' but in that heavy Japanese pronunciation, and then the speaker's name.

_Shibuya Kazuya._

Who speaks _English._

"_Sumimasen, eigo o hanasemasuka?_"

_Excuse me, do you speak English?_

Or at least, I hope that's what I said. There's a brief moment of silence before he speaks again.

"Why English? Who are you?"

In the next few seconds, I panic a little. The words are straight to the point and a little accusatory so I can't help the nervousness, not really.

"Is this Oliver speaking?"

The line becomes quiet and my mind empties. Of all the things I could've said, I chose that? Jesus _wept._

"I'll ask one more time. Who is this?"

Bloody hell Bex, this is supposed to be a secret and you just go blurting it out to him in a moment of panic? Stress is going to be the death of me.

"You probably don't remember me, I work with your father in England though with BSPR. I just had a question that I wanted to ask you specifically if you don't mind."

There's a sound similar to breathing and some whispering in the background but it quickly disappears.

"What kind of question?"

Deep breaths, deep breaths. Here goes nothing. "I was wondering if you knew anything of a Dr. Dark? I recently read an article of their's regarding a telepathy experiment and it was absolutely fascinating, I just wanted to ask them a few questions perhaps?"

My fingers drum nervously on my thighs as I await an answer. God this guy likes to keep people in suspense.

"And why," He drawls it out, his words almost flippant. "Are you asking me?"

"Well I-"

"You must be assuming that this Dr. Dark works for BSPR, yes?

"I mean, I thought there could be a possibility. Given the nature of the study I read about." This phone call is making me tense and he's not even in the room with me. I'm not so sure I ever want to meet this man face to face. He gives me the shivers.

"Then pray tell, why not ask my father instead of his younger, inexperienced son?"

Huh. You know, that might have been a better idea. Call the actual head of the company first, instead of the son who has moved to Japan and only lived what, 16 years?

Oh God, he's _sixteen._ I'm being intimidated by a sixteen year old. Granted, that's only one year younger than me, but still.

"Well?"

I blink. "Oh sorry, I was distracted." _Play it cool._ " I did ask him once the other week but he claimed to not know anything. He's been fairly busy these days and he can be quite secretive, which is why of course I've turned to you."

To be honest, I thought I did quite well with that answer, pretty chuffed with it. At least until I hear some kind of condescending hum.

"You know, if there's one thing I hate most in the world, it's liars."

And then I'm left alone in on the sofa with only the grating sound of a disconnected phone to keep me company.

* * *

**Possible trigger warnings:** none.

I_f I have missed any potential triggers, please PM me._

**Isekai:** _A subgenre of Jaoanese novels, manga, and anime where the main character is transported or reincarnated in a different world. Literally means 'different world'._

_Please dont kill me!_

Yo so yes this is a LITTLLLEEE late, but I have had a grade 8 piano exam to prepare for and take (I passed whoop! Offically have the highest grade :D ), I'm planning and preparing for a two month long holiday to Japan by myself (I'll get to see Shibuya for real, get ready for some fan descriptions in the future) and I also have an interview coming up to study something at a university (which hopefully I will pass).

So I've been a tad busy sure, and I probably will become busy in the future too, but I don't want to forget about Peregrination. Sometimes the chapters come to me sometimes they don't. I have the overarching plan but it's the little detaila and sentences that sometimes just don't want to play ball, as I'm sure a lot of writers will understand. I mean I was stuck on 400 or so words for the past month and literally I wrote the rest yesterday and today.

Peace out my dudes and hope you enjoy :) Any comments would be greatly appreciated, seeing any compliments no matter how small really make my day and is really the only reason I like to keep writing XD That and I really want to see how this plays out.


	5. 五 Revenant

Notes and potential trigger warnings will be at the bottom of each chapter.

**Revenant:******_a person who has returned, especially supposedly from the dead._

* * *

I stare at the phone in my hand blankly for a few moments, registering his words.

It's a weirdly perfect way to end the phone call with a dramatic flair, I'll give him that. Absolutely useless to me thought.

I laugh, whether at the hilarity of the situation or in frustration I'm unsure. "For God's _sake_." Haphazardly, I throw the phone into the cushions of the sofa. It proceeds to bounce off the material and crash onto the ground, something detaching from the back and skidding across the wooden floor. I just stay seated and stare at the ground blankly before sighing.

So. I am more than likely stuck in the universe of 'Ghost Hunt', and Naru, one of the most central characters of the series, is either refusing to help _or_ genuinely doesn't know anything. I also don't speak Japanese yet I'm stuck in a Japanese girl's body in the country of Japan, so I cant _exactly_ go about daily life either.

"Fuck." The groan leaves my mouth as I fall into the back of the sofa. What does one do in a situation such as this you ask? I have absolutely no clue. I'm fresh out of ideas. And I'm too tired to give too many _fucks_ right now.

Okay, slight over exaggeration. I definitely give a _lot_ of fucks, but I'm kinda too tired to deal with everything right now. I know showers are supposed to wake you up, but all this time I've spent on Mai's laptop reading, finding out who's _body _I'm in and phoning Naru... God, I just _really_ want a nap.

Slowly, I push myself off the sofa to a standing position, the sensation of moving my limbs like swimming in jelly. My legs are practically dragging me along the floor towards the bedroom, step after step. That is until a sharp pain erupts from my left foot.

"_Shit!" _I curse, my body tilting to the side as one hand grabs the couch for support and the other clutches my injured foot.

Although I suppose 'injured' is too strong a word. The feeling is akin to standing on a piece of lego, which shouldn't be underestimated mind you, but still not really an 'injury'. Rubbing the sole of my foot my gaze wanders to the floor where that piece of _stupid bloody __plastic _from the phone is lying there, innocent.

Tears spring to my eyes. Pain, frustration, fatigue, confusion, a jumbled mixture of negative emotions and a general feeling of hopelessness burst forth.

"Stop it." I speak to the thin air, scolding myself and these tears. Crying and wallowing in self pity won't get me anywhere.

After a moment of contemplation, I decide to lie down on the couch, since the bedroom seems so much further away than it did mere seconds ago.

Just sleep, I tell myself. Have a nap, sort things out later. Who knows, I might wake up back at Sophie's house to a barking dog and a bunch of empty cider cans lying on the floor.

Hah. I wish.

* * *

When I wake up, there are two things I notice. The first is that I'm no longer lying on the couch but instead on the cold, hard ground. The second is that I can't see.

At first I question whether or not my eyes are actually open, but after blinking a few times it comes to light that there _isn't_ any light. It's pitch black, complete and utter darkness.

There's a squirming feeling in a my stomach, that uneasy sensation when you're stuck somewhere and can't see anything at all. It's not that I'm _scared _of the dark. Sure, as a kid, but who wasn't? Those fears were chased out long ago, but there's something about not being able to see what's in front of me that's quite daunting.

Slowly, I push myself up so I'm no longer completely on the ground, but I'm not exactly up either. I tentatively move my arms, palms brushing against the floor to feel for my surroundings. There doesn't seem to be anything on the ground, or around me at all, for which I start to feel relieved.

But wasn't there supposed to be sofa?

A table too. There's no way I could have fell off of the sofa, missed the table, and rolled to some part of the house with absolutely no furniture at all.

Which begs the question, where the Hell am I? _Again_.

"_Noll? Kikoeru?_"

And then there was light.

My head snaps around towards the disembodied voice, long hair whipping my face. Although,not so disembodied anymore.

A man - a boy? - stands there, black shirt, black trousers, and jet black hair. He stares at me with wide eyes and a half open mouth, words dying from his tongue.

Oh man. He's cute.

No. Bad Becca.

"You're not what I was expecting." The man - boy, member of the male population, whatever - starts.

I snort. "Yeah, I gathered. Not Noll. Sorry."

There's an uncomfortably long silence where I shuffle to a cross legged position, thinking.

Let's get the facts straight.

One, I am inhabiting Mai Taniyama's body from the anime 'Ghost Hunt'.

Two, The last thing I remember is falling asleep on the couch.

Three, I have woken up in a weird room with floaty lights and a cute Japanese boy to keep me company.

I am one hundred percent sure no one needs me to elaborate but I am also one hundred percent sure this person is the one and only Eugene 'Gene' Davis. Huzzah. Now the issue is how do I _talk _to him? _Hi, I'm from a different universe where everything that happens in your universe is actually a novel/manga/anime. Please help me go back? _I mentally shake my head. He may be a ghost but even then there must be limits to what crazy things one can believe in a stranger.

I'm still lost in thoughts when I realise that Gene is actually talking to me. Or at me, as it were.

"Pardon?"

He looks at me oddly and repeats. "I said, who are you and why are you possessing this girl's body?"

Man if I'd been drinking, that would've been one Hell of a spit take.

"I, um.. sorry?" He looks at me fiercely. I gulp. "I mean, but, like, how do you even know that I'm possessing someone? I mean, don't assume that it's not my body or something."

God what a crap response. Even Gene is lifting his eyebrows, his incredulous expression seeming to say _Really? That's what you're gonna go with?_

"For starters," He raises one hand and gestures in my general direction. "The body you're inhabiting and your incorporeal form are completely different."

Huh. My what now?

I reach for my hair to discover that yes, yes that is most _definitely_ my hair. Triple the length of Mai's bob cut and a slightly lighter shade of brown. I bring my hands in front of me and stretch out my short fingers, scars and freckles and all. Damn. Definitely me. "I suppose that is a rather obvious giveaway..." I mutter, more to myself than Gene.

He doesn't hear my comment since said ghostly being starts talking about how the spirit form is supposed to "mirror one's physical form" and some other mambo jambo. I wasn't really paying much attention to the whole explanation, but what I definitely hear is him asking me who I am again.

"Okay, so I'm not Mai. As you can tell." I rub my hands along my crossed legs, which are rain forests compared to Mai's smooth beaches. "My name is Rebecca - nice to meet you by the way - and I'm not entirely sure why, or how, I came to be in this body. At all, really. Probably more confused than you since you're, you know, a spirit and a medium and the like."

He looks at me with an unreadable expression, arms crossed against his chest. "You're telling me, that you don't know how you came to possess a living human being?"

"It sounds to me like you're implying that I'm not a human being myself." I murmur. "Or living! I'll have you know I'm not dead, unlike you. Unless two ciders are enough to give you alcohol poisoning." The last part was supposed to maybe lighten the mood, but he doesn't seem to acknowledge it.

"Right. Of course. You don't have the aura of the dead," He mutters, more to himself than to me it seems. His eyes seem to be staring at the space around and behind me, as if seeing something invisible.

"See? Definitely living. Not some ghostly apparition trying to steal someone's body. Pinky promise." I hold out my right pinky and give it a wiggle, as if that would do anything.

"However," he directs his gaze to me. "There' s something... strange? Odd? Your aura, it's... odd."

My brows furrow. "Oh?" I reply as though I'm not having a conversation with a ghost about auras or some crap. "How so?"

"It's not something easy to explain, I've never seen anything like it before..." Intrigue floods his expression. "It's different, foreign somehow. As though you're not actually _human_, like you say you are."

"Oh." I shuffle uncomfortably under his scrutinising gaze.

"Not that your energy looks like a demon's or anything,"

I snort. "I bloody well hope it doesn't" He ignores me.

"It just... I've never encountered anything - living or otherwise - like... this."

"Like this." I repeat, lamely. He nods as a response.

I lean back, the palms of my hands as support. Different, he said, foreign. I suppose...

"You suppose?"

"Oh shit, um..." I make a show of clearing my throat while I figure how to phrase my... _situation_. "So, let's say that technically, I'm not from around here. Would that possibly be a reason why my 'energy', as you call it, is different?"

An unimpressed stare. "Not from around here?"

Translation: elaborate.

"Um, well, you see..." I let out a long, long breath and click my tongue. "Okay, lemme just check one thing."

A questioning head tilt.

"Your name is Gene right? Eugene Davis?"

Oh man if eyes could actually pop out of sockets, Gene's would be most definitely rolling on the ground.

"How did you-"

"Yeah I'm gonna stop you right there." I hold up a hand to cut him off. "Let's just say, I come from somewhere that allows me to have some knowledge on some events and people around this place and time. Kind of. Make sense? Ish?"

Gene appears to contemplate my words for a few moments before he responds. "So, the future?"

I hold a wince. "Yeah, we can go with that. It's complicated."

"Exactly _how _complicated?" He questions, almost harshly.

Sucking in a breath through my teeth I move off the palms hand to sit upright. "Very. I would explain more, but even _I_ don't particularly understand my situation. It would be nigh on _impossible _for me to explain it to anyone without sounding like a crazy person so please, can you just trust me for now?"

He seems like he's going to argue with me but then his body posture deflates. "Okay. Fine. That _doesn't_ mean I'm fully convinced though."

I shrug. "Fairs. So what do you propose we do?"

Oh Holy Mother Mary how can someone look so hot doing an eyebrow raise? No, stop it. Necrophilia is _never_ a good thing to indulge in.

"We?" He says, in a lilting tone. "Why are you assuming this is a 'we' problem?"

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were the kind of guy to leave a poor girl fending for herself in place that she knows nothing about. Men these days..." I bring a finger to wipe a fake tear from my face as Gene laughs.

"Alright alright, I get it. I'll see what I can do. So what is it exactly that you're trying to achieve? Just getting your spirit back in your body?"

"Yeah pretty much to be honest. When I woke up I had a little freak out and tried to Google some stuff - only decent things i could find were on a research called Dr. Dark. You don't happen to know anything do you? Being the son of a renowned supernatural researcher."

I can't help but feel disappointed when he shakes his head. "Sorry, that's more something my brother would know about. I wasnt really interested in the whole research and scientific aspects, I was more into the culture behind different religions."

Groaning, I bring my hands to my face. "Yeah I know, I did try and get some information from him first, but since the brother with a PhD is also the brother with a heart of stone. He hung up on me and called me a liar! I got nothing. "

He smiles slightly. "That does sound like him."

"Mm. So what should we do?"

"I'm... I'm not sure. Maybe we should wait it out a few days-"

"What!? Wait it out? What am I supposed to do, stay in Mai's apartment the whole time wallowing in self pity? Isn't there anyone you know that might have useful information? Dead or alive, spirit or living being, anything?" I'm tempted to throw my hands up in frustration but i hold myself back and settle for just holding them in front of me in a questioning motion.

"Besides Oliver, Lin, or my parents, no. Although there is this woman called Madoka, but I'm unsure how you'd contact her. Plus, anything she knows, Oliver and the rest probably know too."

I huff in frustration and tap away at the glowing, celestial floor. "Shit."

"Yes," A small laugh escapes from his sombre grin. "That."

"But seriously though," My hand ruffles my long hair then pulls it away from my face, tucked behind an ear. "What am I supposed to do? Juts sit and wait?"

Gene shuffles around on his feet for a moment before giving me a thoughtful glance. "The best thing you could probably do is to just go through Mai's regular lifestyle. Act as if nothing is wrong. Go to school and research what to do with your situation in your spare time maybe, so as to raise as few eyebrows as possible.

I stare at him, my face completely blank. Is he serious? Go to school? Act like nothing is wrong? How am I supposed to do that when...

He stares back. "What?"

Oh. _Oh. _He doesn't _know_.

"Know what?" He asks, the confusion blatantly obvious on his face.

Honestly, it's proving difficult to hold back the laughter. It's hysterical really, how this supposed psychic and ghostly being seems to have missed one absolutely vital issue.

"Gene," I manage to croak out without laughing. "I don't know Japanese. Can't speak it, can't read it, can't write it, sure as Hell can't understand it."

Now it's his turn to stare at me, dismay creeping into his face. "Shit."

"Yeah," I say. "That."

* * *

**Possible trigger warnings: **small mention of underage drinking, nyctophobia.

(I pretty much have nothing to say for myself)

So, yes it has been a while and this chapter has actually been rewritten a few times and then been stored in my notes for like a month. But hey it's here now!

Quick update on me: I spent 9 weeks solo travelling Japan during the summer and now I have a WHOLE new perspective on the country and feel like my writing will be more accurate on the country than ever before. Heck, I feel like I know Japan better than England, considering the research and history reading I've done for it. So that happened, and now I am back in England and studying Pharmacy at a university here. It's going to be quite full on so my updates will be sporadic and sometimes long periods of time with no updates, but I promise I'll try my best! I did want to do an original story idea for Nanowrimo this year but I may continue with Peregrination just so i can actually get this one finished... XD Anyways I hope you enjoy this chapter nonetheless. Comments and likes are always appreciated but if one of those people that reads and leaves it at that thanks for reading!

P.S. If I have missed any potential trigger warnings please PM me.


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